


a moment of weakness

by yattycakes



Category: Vinland Saga (Anime), Vinland Saga (Manga)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Medieval Medicine, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Thornute, thorfinn x canute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:02:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29007252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yattycakes/pseuds/yattycakes
Summary: Canute takes it upon himself to care for Thorfinn after his final duel with Askeladd. They share some time together before their lives depart on an opposite course.
Relationships: Canute/Thorfinn (Vinland Saga)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 31





	a moment of weakness

The fresh snowfall harshly greeted the young warrior as his knees gave out, and soon began dampening his fur-lined tunic as he fell forward into a prone position. The fleshy part of his frost-bitten cheeks stung briefly and although the frigid snow brushed his temples and eyelids, he was too weary to even bother screwing up his face against it. It was either the heat of his tired breath or the hot pour of blood trickling from his nose that now wet his upper lip. Though these sensations all faded into a comfortable numbness after a moment, almost alleviating the throbbing pains of the wounds littering his body. 

Iceland’s brutal winters flashed in his mind, how he lay “dead” in the pillowy snow after receiving a half-hearted blow from one of the rickety wooden swords in routine games with the other children in the village. 

The warm sunlight washed over his face, the skies a pleasant eggshell blue with no traces of clouds. 

He remembered the frustration he felt in those moments. A similar feeling still coursed through him now, though it had morphed into something he couldn’t exactly place. A singular question rang in Thorfinn’s mind. _Can I ever change?_

He could pick out the faint sounds of footsteps, though they sounded very far away. His mind replayed the image of Askladd’s worn boots in the compacted snow as he trudged slowly up the hillside after winning yet another duel of theirs. Voices bounced around in the air around him, though he could not focus on any of the words uttered as the wind carried them away. His limbs felt as heavy as logs, and slowly he began to nod off into sleep. 

He dreamt of the rocky shores of Iceland, of the never-placid ocean that coaxed him to draw near. 

Intermittently this image was disrupted by memories of a gentle touch bracing his side, of soft flaxen hair ridden with snowflakes brushing his nose, a constant presence he leaned upon as a velvety cape rippled at their heels. 

-

When Thorfinn finally regained consciousness, he noticed the warmth enveloping him. As he broke out of his stupor, his features seized in a wince as his broken arm pulsed with pain. 

He slowly opened his eyes, and found two very blue ones staring back at him heedfully- the captivating color mimicking Iceland’s open skies. His left hand twitched momentarily to reach for his knife out of instinct, as it always seemed to be itching towards the pouch where it was kept. The weight of it in his hands was one of the few things that grounded him without fail. 

Prince Canute blinked in surprise at his sudden movement and ducked his head away in what appeared to be almost a sudden self-consciousness. He recovered quickly, though, as he spoke firmly. “Don’t move Thorfinn, you will only injure yourself further.” 

Thorfinn turned his head to the side and glowered at the blond boy who simply avoided his pressing gaze as he was focused on whatever he was busying his hands with. “What are you doing.” The blunt interrogation came out gruffly, as it was difficult to speak with his parched throat demanding for water. 

“I told you before didn’t I? Your wounds need to be tended to.” 

The royal had drawn a chair to be stationed at his bedside, and in his lap he held some shredded scraps of linen that seemed to have used to be a tablecloth along with a receptacle of water. He took one of the pieces and dipped them into the bowl, and Thorfinn’s auburn eyes followed the beads of water that dripped quietly back into the bowl.

Thorfinn watched as the soft candlelight played upon the planes of Canute’s pale face as he carefully wrought the fabric in his hands. The lack of light in the room pointed towards the idea that dusk had arrived, the flames of a small fireplace a few feet away mostly keeping the cabin alight. 

His skin crawled at the distant familiarity of the circumstance. The pallets of the warrior’s fingertips ran over the pillowy furs overlaying the bed of straw he was propped upon. Perhaps this was one of the cabins that were reserved for the young royal's men. He noticed his right arm was free from the mounds of bandages that once contained the chipped blade, only the loose splint and sling containing it.

Thorfinn’s forehead wrinkled into a frown as he began to attempt to roll out of the bed, ignoring how the usage of his facial muscles reminded him of how sore his bruised eye was. “Don’t need your help princess, I’ll be fine.” He muttered dismissively, though a palm placed unyieldingly on his abdomen stopped him in place.

“Stay still. It took a lot of work to drag you down from that field.” The young prince’s gaze pierced through him, his tone commanding that the warrior complied to his wishes. Thorfinn stalled for a moment with his mouth slightly agape at this, as if weighing the consequences if he fled. Why was the danish royal tending to him of all people? This question was lost on him. A grimace then warped his face as he opted to save the effort and obey for now, allowing himself to lie back into the snug bed awaiting him with not enough sulk to make it believable. The prince’s hands hovered as if he wanted to help him settle back, but the dirty blond boy’s dagger-like stare in response made them lower. 

Canute blinked and looked back into his lap briefly, his lips quirking upwards minutely as he set down the bowl of water for a moment. The water sloshed as it was jostled. “You’re heavier than you look.” He added softly as if to lighten the mood. 

Thorfinn grunted at that, turning his head to the side as he suddenly heard the chair scrape against the floors. 

“I bet your eye hurts quite a bit, I gathered some ice outside to hopefully keep the swelling down. I’ll be back with it in a moment.” 

The warrior observed the prince’s retreating back with an unfocused gaze, the shape appearing odd and foreign to him without the crimson cape draped along his shoulders. Canute paused as he gathered some materials left on the table before opening the door. It was dark out, as Thorfinn expected, and everything was drenched in a sea of inky black. The royal’s long hair swept behind him as the wind barged into the small cabin, it’s golden shine making the muted glow of the moon appear pallid. A chill rushed into the space alongside this gust before the prince had a chance to shut the wooden door behind him.

Thorfinn shifted to watch as the fire at the foot of the bed flickered and retreated behind the logs at the offending wind, before slowly crawling forward to reclaim its previous height. The flames danced as his broken arm began to twinge in pain. He bit out a curse and held his breath to steel himself against the waves of affliction, a slight hiss leaving him as he used his other arm to lift the blanket. Despite his right arm still being covered in his sling, he could spot contrasting purples and blues littering the flesh around his elbow. The ratty bandages had been removed, probably by the prince while he was still unconscious. He pressed lightly on the area to feel a slightly raised lump with a flash of pain that followed. 

The rickety handle of the door creaked open again with the snow speckled face of Canute not too long behind, who turned at the sudden groan that Thorfinn emitted. It seemed as though he was at his side almost immediately, an iron tray clattering to the bedside table. “Stay still. I will help you,” the prince murmured as he peeled the blanket down to reveal the damaged arm. Thorfinn breathed shallowly as he felt a cool fingertip trace the juncture of his upper arm and forearm, observing the area closely. Goosebumps prickled the expanse of skin at the touch.

“There is a lot of swelling… probably because you jostled it during the duel.” He mused as he made note of the lump, swiping a stray piece of hair behind his ear as he retrieved something from the table. Thorfinn bit the inside of his cheek as he stared ahead to see the prince transfer a satchel to his arm, made from what looked like a scrap of cloth and tied neatly with thread. It took just a moment for the cold to seep out and bring a tolerable numbness to the limb. 

“Is the ice okay?” 

Bright eyes framed with long eyelashes darted along his face for any sign of discomfort. The warrior grunted in affirmation, letting go of the breath he was holding. A small smile found the prince at that. “I also have that ice for your eye… just let me look quick,” Slowly the prince’s fingers came up to brush away the intruding hair falling into his face, the warrior stiffening at the sudden contact. Then the backside of the royal’s hand was gingerly pressed to his forehead. The divine coolness of the soft skin was pleasant enough for the smaller boy to bask in, the slight protrusions of his knuckles flattening any tenseness there. But as quickly as it was placed it was then gone. A quiet exhale left the other boy as it sounded like he began gathering more ice into a bundle. “A bit too hot... hopefully we can stave away a fever.” 

Thorfinn watched the blond boy at the edges of his line of sight, the warm light transforming his wispy bangs to look like runs of molten gold. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he finished in tying the makeshift ice pouch closed, too pink lips parting to say something. Eyes meeting in a sudden jarring moment, Thorfinn quickly looked away as if he were staring at nothing in particular and hoped the inquisitive nature of his gaze was not recognizable. Whatever Canute wanted to say must have been whisked away, as he remained silent and retreated back to his task.

The warrior’s mind seemed to be running a couple paces too slow, and it was becoming a problem. Was it because this circumstance was just too weird that it left him feeling out of place? Or was it just his injuries? _Damn that Askeladd._ He clenched his teeth in bitter frustration, and as if Canute was reading his mind and wanted to interrupt this line of thought, a biting coldness fell over his eye as the cloth was applied there. The ice quelled the soreness as it brought in a pleasant tingling feeling. His jaw went slack and a grumbling hum accidentally escaped his throat. Somehow the prince knew it was one of appeasement as a pleased look passed over his face. 

“I’ll get you something to drink, you must be thirsty.” 

This time the royal was headed to the kindling fire a few paces away. Clinking of iron could be heard, with the smooth pouring of water. In observing the slouched form of the danish prince he was reminded of the warm little cabin littered with glittering snowy boughs. He remembers yanking the door open, sending a flurry of snowflakes as he saw the older boy crouched near a pot. Canute had innocently peered up at him with his lips pursed as he tipped the wooden ladle full of steaming soup towards his awaiting mouth. A neat ribbon pulled his silky hair behind him, exposing the creamy white skin of his neck as he swallowed. His stomach flopped unexpectedly at the recollection. 

That vulnerable boy had seemed to disappear for a while. But right now it was like he was getting a glimpse of him again.

A chalice was held in the long haired boy’s dainty hand as he turned and neared his bedside again. “I brewed some water with yarrow and honey. It will help the pain and inflammation subside.” He set the cup aside and looked down at Thorfinn’s prone form.

“We’ll need to sit you up a bit so you can drink without spilling it everywhere.” A soft hand braced his unwounded elbow, the taller boy's eyes casting down to his as if testing the waters. The warriors eyes narrowed briefly but said nothing and his caretaker took that as a right of passage. Canute instructed him to slowly inch up his hips, and another hand came to support his back as he was righted into a slumped sitting position against the headboard. Thorfinn gazed steadily at him as the cup was procured and placed to his lips. “I can hold it myself,” he rasped insolently, his scraped up hand lifting to clutch it- accidentally brushing the fair hand of the prince, which withdrew. 

Blinking blue eyes observed as he hastily drank the semi-sweet mixture down, a rivulet or two spilling from his lips and dripping onto his shirt due to his eagerness. A laugh appeared to threaten to escape his attendant, who neutralized the urge by pulling his mouth taut. “You remind me of an oversized baby.” Not expecting this sudden assault, he angrily wiped his chin and glowered at the long haired boy who just seemed to want to laugh even more. 

Thorfinn decided did not like this new Canute. Before he was always throwing insults and all the poor danish princess could do was fume… but now he was actively trying to rile him up and _succeeding._

The royal lightly grasped the drained cup for him, apple-like redness dusting his cheeks from suppressing his fit of hilarity. He relinquished it with a halfhearted stink eye, watching as the prince’s expression flickered momentarily with warmth before turning away, placing the cup aside and fiddling with what looked like a basin at his feet. 

Thorfinn had an odd thought then, wondering what the prince’s laugh would sound like. He’d never heard it before.

He doesn’t know where this bout of curiosity came from, but maybe it was always there. Perhaps from the moment he caught a glimpse of the ethereal figure in that now charred forest, flames reflecting in the shining winged helmet that obscured the face that silently observed the mayhem ensuing. 

“How do you know so much about this stuff?” 

The question came out of nowhere as Canute looked his way again with slightly raised eyebrows, obviously not expecting this inquiry. His gaze returned to his lap as he wrung out the scraps of linen from before, musing for a moment before he opened his mouth to speak.

“I often watched the physician that came to care for my father growing up, as I found his extensive knowledge of the body to be quite admirable. The physician had travelled many places in his time... he had taught me some lessons after I inquired and let me borrow some texts. I learned about the ancient Greek teachings of Galen and Hippocrates. They stressed the importance of balance in the body, based on the four humors which constitute us. It is a lot different from the folk medicine we commonly practice with herbal and spiritual treatments, but I found it interesting to learn of the different approaches to healing.” 

The warrior listened to the soft yet passionate voice as it spoke leisurely, not really understanding some of the terms spoken but was intrigued to listen to the other talk nonetheless. Unwavering blue eyes fell upon him then, a lightness to them that he hadn't seen there before. "And you’ve dreadfully overworked your body, it is time for some needed rest,” the prince finished with a hum. A comfortable silence followed and the only sound that broke it was the cascading of water falling back into the pool contained by the basin. 

Suddenly Canute glanced up at him with a cloth in hand, eyebrows drawn together pensively. He seemed hesitant to state what was on his mind but the longer he stared at the wounds littering the other boy’s skin, the more he was emboldened. 

“I swear… one of these days you are going to end up killing yourself. When I woke you up after Askeladd had knocked you out, you still jumped up to fight even though you barely had your wits about you. You just did not want to stop,” the blond remarked, icy eyes burning into his unswollen one.

Thorfinn avoided his pressing gaze and blankly rested his eyes on the flames of the fireplace, a steeled look contorting his features. It relaxed a bit as Canute’s silken voice reached him again, something about needing to wash off the blood from his wounds.

The light touch of the other’s hand on his own broke him from his daze, smoothing over it to hold the underside and slightly lift it. A soaked cloth swept across his hand and lifted the grime there. The small cuts caused by dry skin around the ridges of his fingers stung slightly as they were scrubbed. But he was too distracted by the feeling of the danish prince’s precise digits guiding his hand, ever so gently cupping the back of it as he flipped it over to run the cloth over the meat of his palm and wrist. The smaller boy felt his fingers twitch minutely in response to such a sensitive area being brushed. There was no look of disgust as the cloth began to be tinged with a pale pink along with a smattering of browns. Only attentiveness lined his features. His thick shirt sleeve was rolled up a bit more to allow better access. The cloth was dipped back into the bowl before it was swiped up the underside of his arm. It curved around to wash the forearm in slow circles, Canute’s long hair blocking his face like a drawn curtain as he spoke.

“There must be a lot of underlying strife, even though you may not admit it.”

The dusty blond simply watched the other’s soft movements, expression hardened. 

“Just… need to kill him. In the name of my father. But after all these years, I still can’t. I never change.” Thorfinn muttered in reply, not exactly understanding why he was talking about this. 

Canute simply listened intently and switched to focus on his right arm, carefully washing the exposed skin that failed to be swaddled by the splint. 

“Your father- Thors?” He must have remembered the name from Askeladd earlier and connected the dots. Thorfinn nodded, surprised the prince had recalled it so easily. 

His chest leveled as the rhythmic passing of the cloth slowed, and the prince’s head tilted slightly in obvious curiosity. “What kind of man was he?” Thorfinn hadn’t really spoken about his past so openly before, he never really had a desire to... there was no need. 

But with those honest blue eyes looking into his so acceptingly, he just began to speak. 

He told of the bits and pieces of what his father was like that still remained in his memories, how he had fled to Iceland to lead a peaceful life with his family. When his brief answer was finished, Canute looked at him to go on and so he did. He relayed cloudy memories of his older sister Ylva, his sickly mother, and of story times with Leif. As he delved into how he joined Askeladd’s band at such a tender age, the royal’s hand slightly intertwined with his as he positioned his arm more comfortably. It stayed there, fingers just shyly grazing each other throughout the entirety of it. Thorfinn ignored the odd compulsion to weave them together more fittingly. A sadness never left the other’s soft features as he described what he could recollect from that fateful day, when his youthful excitement suddenly soured. His pretty eyes reflected the gentle candlelight in a glossy sheen. 

The crackling of the kindling greeted them as he concluded the story, feeling a strange calmness. 

“There is always time for change. Your father’s life is proof of that.” A ghost of a smile reached his lips at that, the words evoking a kind of solace. 

As if returning to reality, the prince’s hand slipped away from his like he had been scorned. Blinking fast, the royal feigned an unabashed exterior by deflecting to grab a clean scrap of linen. But the warrior could spot an embarrassed flush that lived his complexion, making him feel weirdly dizzy. 

He always wanted to see more of that face.

Despite the slight throb of his broken arm, Thorfinn secretly reveled in the calm repeating gesture of the wet linen tracing his joints. His clean skin felt pleasantly cool as the water left on it dried in the air. Again Canute leaned down to dunk the cloth in the basin, the warrior’s eyes following as the long haired boy’s eyes locked with his as he straightened himself out. His bangs were a bit disheveled from the movement, a pink flush building on his cheeks at Thorfinn’s impassive gaze. He opted to avoid it by going back to cleaning his wounds. A warmness swirled in his gut at the sight.

Thorfinn just had to incite some more.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you… like this,” the injured boy uttered with a smirk. The prince faltered at that, his eyes pointedly making their way to Thorfinn once again. He seemed to expect the worst when he saw the other’s scheming face. “What do you mean by that?” He challenged, pointedly waiting for others' response. 

“I don’t know… your subdued side.” Canute halted and glanced at him with confusion written on his face. The other boy tapped his chin as if in thought before he continued. “Or showing your secret interest in doing these wifely duties.” He elaborated bluntly, knowing it would get a reaction out of the uptight dane. 

Indignantly the prince shook his head in disbelief, the flush rising as he sputtered and withdrew, cloth wrenched in his fist as if ready to slap the other across the head with it. He reminded the young viking of a cat rising on its haunches. Next he prattled on about how medicine was a man’s profession and how Thorfinn was a complete imbecile for thinking otherwise. 

Towards the end of his breathless argument he shouted, “I’ll have you know that this is all for your benefit! If I had left you out there tonight you would have froze! You- you... ungrateful brute!” His voice raised in octave toward the end, making the warriors' smug smile grow. 

“Oh now I’m a brute?” 

“Yes. Yes you are. Now shut up, I need to get that crusty blood off your awful nose.” 

The shorter boy glared at the insult but acceded, finding it to be too much trouble now to fight his attendant. 

Canute scooted closer with the moistened linen, assessing his face before lightly rubbing it along his forehead. Thorfinn felt his heartbeat quicken at the princess’ face so close to his own, feeling the other’s soft breathing on his skin as the blood was lifted from his temples. Overwhelmed, he averted his eyes to stare along the other boy’s neckline. “Why are you doing this anyway?” Thorfinn inquired, voice gravelly. His delicate throat although bathed in shadows, constricted briefly as Canute swallowed thickly. Suddenly his skin began to crawl with an inaccessible itch, craving. It took a few beats for the danish prince to speak as if he was configuring an appropriate justification. 

“Well… you protected me many times before. Perhaps I wanted to do something to thank you. Despite how feeble in comparison this is,” the light blond articulated almost smoothly enough to not perceive the hint of anxiousness.

The cloth traversed down to line his cheekbone, where Thorfinn’s brown eyes were forced to look upwards into that irritatingly faultless face. 

His eyelashes were splayed so angelically, dewy skin giving him a delectable radiance. 

He stared transfixed as the cloth ever so gently made its way down the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll be careful around here, even though I should hit you for being so annoying.” Canute whispered bitterly under his breath, exhaling as he passed the linen over the accumulated dried blood lining his cupid's bow. 

Thorfinn felt his face heat up as he felt the intense gaze of the prince examining him, who was probably expecting a retort. 

He attempted to look elsewhere, but as his gaze flitted downwards his eyes became wrapped up in the closeness of Canute’s lips. 

They were slightly agape, his full bottom lip making it appear like he was always pouting. 

He always loved that about the prince, especially when he was sulking at one of his jabs.

Thorfinn was absorbed in the rosy color that adorned them, the slight parting of them making his heart stammer unbearably. 

_I’m gonna die._

But as the linen passed slightly over his upper lip, his eyes were drawn again to encounter the royal’s.

His inky black pupils were blown wide, the blue depths overtaken as he looked fixedly down at the spot he had just cleaned. 

Then he felt a single water droplet run down the slope of his lip and gather in the juncture where his lips met. Thorfinn swiped his tongue along his lip, tasting a faint tang of iron. He stared daringly at the now stiff young prince, who’s eyes widened at the sight.

“Whatcha thinking prin-?” Before he could get the provoking comment out, Canute had leapt from his seat and closed the distance between them to join their lips. 

The warrior had frozen in shock, wondering if he was having some really vivid fever dream. Had Askeladd really tossed him around that hard? _That fuckin’ asshole._

He watched briefly as Canute’s eyes squeezed shut in conviction as he angled his head just ever so marginally, skin buzzing. It did not take long for his own to slip closed and for his mouth to begin to move coyly against his partner's.

It was a chaste kiss, just their lips sliding together experimentally. The prince’s other hand had come to grip the front of his shirt, shaking like they were under attack. 

Affection surged through him, emboldening him, and so he ran his tongue along the seam of the danish royal’s lush lips. The prince parted them eagerly with a blissful sigh, which shamefully caused his groin to stir. The shaking began to subside.

He explored the wetness there, Canute’s tongue lapping slowly at his. A grunt of pleasure left him as he crushed their mouths together by lifting his head for better access, ignoring the ache of his broken nose. The bundle of ice tumbled and fell into the sheets, though neither of them noticed. 

Thorfinn recognized the smooth waves of his hair tickle the planes of his face as the bloody cloth was abandoned from the royal’s fist to fall limply to the floor. 

He felt fingertips come to cup his jaw as if the poor prince needed something to hold onto to ground him. A broken moan left the prince’s airway as Thorfinn bit his bottom lip, before it was swallowed by the viking who then swept his tongue over the flesh as if to placate him. The sound seemed amplified in the quiet lodge, reverberating in his ears gratifyingly. This led to a string of heated kisses, foreheads knocking as they pressed closer together.

Both breathless, the prince was the first to pull away. A blush filled out his cheeks, eyes darkened with unabashed lust. His gaze darted away from him embarrassedly.

“T-Thorfinn be careful, you’re still injured.” 

Peering up at Canute’s flustered face with those glistening kiss-bitten lips was sending him into a frenzy, warmth pooling in his gut.

“I don’t care.” He managed to get out impatiently, eyes narrowed. 

Canute gasped when his scarred hand swept into his golden tresses, gripping him roughly at the scalp and pulling their lips together again. The fair haired prince hummed against his lips, combing his own soft hands through the other boy’s unkempt hair. The warrior licked into his mouth, satisfaction coursing through him as he was rewarded with a breathy moan. With a fistful of the silky blond’s hair, he pulled on it teasingly to feel the prince stumble against his lips with a barely concealed squeak escaping him. 

_So cute._

Thorfinn felt a creeping smile overtake him and opted to press kisses into the corner of the others mouth, feeling it quirk up happily at the attention. 

Canute after a while was fed up with his cheekiness and fixed this by slotting their mouths together with a hungry kind of fervor. 

His cool fingers slipped down to hold his nape, the warrior grumbling at the sensation of the prince’s finely manicured nails sparsely scraping the skin there. 

Canute’s tongue steadily circled the inside of his cheek, drinking up the low moan that it elicited from the boy below who’s head was running at whirlwind speed. 

They shared content sighs, noses brushing as their lips met again and again. Once they parted again, panting into each other's mouths, Thorfinn slowly opened his eyes to see the dane gazing at him through half lidded eyes. His heart dropped at the sight, seeing those vast blues in such a daze. 

_Pretty pretty pretty._

“Get up.” Thorfinn demanded brusquely, gently untangling his fingers from the prince’s lustrous locks to pat his lap. 

The prince glanced at his serious expression and apparently realized now, for once, there was no time for arguing. 

So he bit his lip and mindfully hoisted his knee upon the bed of furs, knocking them aside. He bracketed his legs with his thighs, noticing how he had a great view of them now that his tunic was hiked up from the action. Thorfinn felt himself swallow involuntarily at the sight of the prince straddling him, wishing he had both hands available to run them along the pliant flesh of Canute’s inner thighs. His throat felt even drier when he peered up at the others face, who seemed slightly shaken at his sudden reposition as he balanced himself by planting his palms carefully upon Thorfinn’s abdomen. 

“You’re beautiful.” The viking murmured before even recognizing it left his mouth, eyes widening in shock as the realization hit him. 

_Did I just say that?_

He heard the royal suck in a quick breath, stunned at the words. Though a creeping smile quickly graced his captivating visage at the stricken look on the bruised warrior’s face. 

“Hm? Is that the great and feared Thorfinn, blushing like a maiden?” 

He dissolved into a peal of laughter as he injected his words with forged astonishment, much to Thorfinn’s dismay. The mirthful sound of it was soon muffled as he leaned down to bury his face into the side of the other’s neck. The hot breath of the flaxen haired prince fanned upon the sensitive skin there. The brown eyed boy felt his lively heartbeat thrum in his veins despite his stamped pride, and so his fingers gravitated to brush along the prince’s hip. 

Canute, liking the touch, pressed a kiss to his throat. Thorfinn let out a rumble of appreciation, and the prince’s eyes traced his with mirth before he ducked down again. He shyly licked over the area, awakening the sweltering heat in the warrior’s gut once again. It was not long before he felt the pleasant pressure of pearly incisors nipping at the tender skin. 

Thorfinn let out a shaky breath, his grip on the prince more like a clutch as the bites dipped down to his collarbone. Canute’s forearm flanked him as he sunk further down the bed to suck enthusiastically on the spot where his neck began to meet his shoulder, hair raining down to caress the hollow of his neck. 

In the middle of his reverie of being ravaged by his highness’ sweet kisses, Thorfinn suddenly felt his lower half being pressed upon by a hard weight. He rolled his hips up instinctively, hearing a quiet whine fall from Canute’s mouth as he groaned at the burst of pleasure. 

The dane pulled away slightly, bestowing Thorfinn with the sight of his messy crown of hair and wanton eyes. Thorfinn ground against him again, unable to control himself at the view he was getting, watching intently as the prince let out a quiet _ah._

Panting filled the room as the warrior repeatedly thrusted weakly against Canute, who began to rub against him shamelessly, chasing the pleasure. The dusty blond beneath him let out a guttural moan, hand skimming under the prince’s thin undershirt to slide over the small of his back. 

Canute pressed his face into the side of his neck again, but as heat became too much he angled his head upwards, breathing heavily right against Thorfinn’s ear. Increasingly high pitched moans were uttered right into the shell of his ear. 

It became a bit too much when the prince breathed out thickly with a desperation in his voice, _“mm, Thorfinn.”_

All of the blood of his body seemed to rush down to his lower half. 

“I want to touch you.” He growled into the prince’s hair, fingers dipping forwards to pull impatiently at the drawstring of the other’s pants. 

He felt the young dane tremble at his words, the pads of his fingers lightly pressing at his midsection to steady himself as he pulled himself upright. Canute’s flush had now travelled to his neck, looking akin to a fresh strawberry as puffs of air left his lips, a bit of drool shining at the corner of them. His eyes were cloudy with unfiltered lust as he ducked his hands underneath Thorfinn’s ripped and worn undershirt, lifting it up to around the warrior’s middle where his wounded arm laid. 

He bit his lip as he touched the rippled muscles of the young viking’s abdomen and left a few timid openmouthed kisses to the blooming bruises there. Thorfinn sucked in a breath at the light touches, his groin leaking at the ministrations. His fingertips then made their way past his belly button and to the cord of his pants, which was enthusiastically untied. Canute helped to attentively push down the garment without knocking against Thorfinn’s injured arm, watching as the smaller boy’s member was released- a small shiver travelling down the boy’s spine at the feeling of the crisp air greeting it. 

Thorfinn looked away to conserve his stoic appearance, not used to this overt intimacy. Canute must have noticed as he leaned forward to cup his cheek fondly and slide their lips together languidly. Thorfinn melted into the touch and tilted his head to face the other boy, left hand coming to thumb through his hair. As he felt the lips retreating, his neck craned to follow them to no avail as the other sat back again. A breathy chuckle left the prince at his frustrated face, though his expression was then blocked by his palm. 

Thorfinn watched fixedly, chest heaving as the Canute spit into his hand- somehow still looking ever so graceful. A pink tongue flashed behind the webs his fingers, which did not go unnoticed by the warrior’s alert cock. The prince then lowered the digits, sliding his slick thumb along the slit of it which began to weep. Pleasure ripped through him, body tensing immediately as Canute’s saliva-covered hand moved down his length tentatively with a delicious amount of pressure. 

_“Fuck… Canute.”_ He ground out, fingers grabbing purchase on the boy’s thigh and squeezing. The prince inhaled sharply in hearing his name from the warrior, delivering one more rudimentary pump that sent Thorfinn reeling for more. 

He raised himself up onto his knees shakily, delicately untying his breeches and pushing them down to his knees, revealing his milky thighs. Canute’s cock bounced, curved against his pale stomach which was partially covered by his rumpled tunic. It was flushed an attractive velvety pink, making the other boy’s mind spin as he burned it into his memory. The prince’s chest rose and fell ploddingly as Thorfinn spit roughly into his hand and wrapped it around the head of his member, gathering the precum there. A high pitched cry tumbled from his reddened lips as he dragged his hand down to the base unforgivingly, a hand flying to his mouth to muffle the ensuing loud noises. 

“I want to hear you.” 

Tears had gathered in the corners of Canute’s eyes, clinging to his lashes as he stubbornly ignored him. Though as Thorfinn caressed the inside of his thigh, pinching the fragile skin there roughly enough to make him mewl, the prince uncovered his mouth obediently. Satisfied, Thorfinn resumed his movements and slowly guided his fingers up and down Canute’s cock. The young royal panted, thighs quivering against Thorfinn’s legs as his sensitive head was teased. Suddenly the intense pleasure was halted, causing him to whine at the warrior. Thorfinn licked his lips as he wrapped his hand around his member and Canute’s, pushing their bodies even closer. 

The prince gazed at him in a haze of pleasure at the feeling, running his hand absentmindedly along the boy’s slightly jutted out hipbone. Thorfinn began to pump them in tandem, groaning as he felt the heat and pressure of Canute against him. 

_“T-Thorfinn,”_ his partner sobbed out, breathing out laboriously as he watched Thorfinn’s hand touching them through half-mast eyes. Thorfinn cursed under his breath as waves of pleasure descended upon him while watching the blue eyed prince above him tremble in ecstasy. 

Curses tumbled from him like they were the only words he knew as the heady pleasure racked his body, knowing his voice was completely debauched. Canute tremulously lined his hand up along with his, sending sparks through Thorfinn’s brain. 

The prince whimpered as their pace quickened, tipping forward and digging his nails into Thorfinn’s shirt with his free hand as if to keep himself afloat. The viking gritted his teeth as he felt the heat build up unbearably in his gut as he found Canute’s glistening blue eyes gazing into his with this sort of longing, head canting with each drawn out moan that spilled from his lips. 

Thorfinn’s release descended upon him not too long later, hips stuttering against Canute’s as he came, a wetness landing upon his stomach. 

The prince soon followed with a full body tremor and a filthy cry of the young warrior’s name. His hands gripped his torn shirt with a indescribable need at that moment, before relaxing entirely as the tension was soon carried away. Like it was never there at all.

-

Smoke lingered in the air as the candle was blown out, red wax dripping onto the dark wood like rivulets of tears. The once lively fireplace was now waning, clinging for life as the golden haired prince tidied them up with a spare piece of cloth.

His fingertips wove around his injured arm a few moments later, wrapping it snugly with a new coat of bandages to keep it in place. The lethargic quality to their movements imparted a feeling of melancholy. Though before the warrior could dwell upon it, they pulled away.

He aided in settling Thorfinn gently back against the pillows, who for once did not protest and covertly relished in the other's brief touch. 

Shadows passed upon the wooden walls as he listened to the knocking of glasses and sloshing of water as the prince arranged his medicinal supplies. 

Those repeated noises lulled to a stop and then muted footsteps permeated the space, sounding as though they led away from him. 

Thorfinn’s eyes fell to a close as the water from the basin was poured abruptly onto the dying flames, the colors behind his eyelids familiar and welcomed.

A moment later the bed dipped from someone perched there, and two low thuds resounded as boots hit the floor. He felt a head lie beneath his then and legs tangle with his own. 

Thorfinn wordlessly pulled the furs around his companion, heart stirring with a foreign emotion as he registered faint breaths upon his breastbone.

In the distance the raucous uproar from the pubs could be heard in midst of the howling winds. 

A question began to build up in his throat as it began to dawn on him what was approaching.

_Are you afraid?_

“Just let me rest here for a while,” Canute murmured evenly against his skin and nestled closer, disrupting his afflicted thoughts as if he knew they were even there. His eyelashes fluttered tranquilly just once more. 

Thorfinn felt a heaviness descend upon him then, and so he lay silently in the darkness that encapsulated them- briefly shielding them from the changes that the sunrise would bring. 

After a stretch of time when he was sure the other was dozing, he buried his nose into the prince’s crown of hair awaiting beneath his chin and savored this feeling that he would soon attempt to forget.

Despite all those years in the midsts of battlefields, he was never prepared enough to nurse the pain that this eventually brought.

**Author's Note:**

> hiya this is my first fic on here because thornute deserves more love! this is also my first smut fic, so let me know all your critiques haha. an idea for this came from a class i took on premodern medicine and i ran with the thought of canute learning from the physicians present at the castle as he grew up. anyway, i hope i did them at least a bit of the justice that they deserve.


End file.
